Dear N
by Zanteh
Summary: Let's read Arthur's Diary! - The many feelings hunting our teen Arthur, his attraction for an American named Alfred and his  twisted feelings for a certain French guy. Who'll win his heart?
1. 28th July

28th July 2011

9.00pm

Dear N.,

I was at the station this morning, waiting for the 10.23 am train for London and guess what? Out of the blue a blonde stopped by to ask for a lighter. At the moment, I spat out that I had none of those, since, as you know, I do not smoke. Yet, the Yankee (for yes, he was a Yankee, boisterus and rude all the way), kept on bothering me, saying nonsense such as "Why, don't you have any Zippo here in the Old World?" or "Canada is twenty times more advanced than you. I mean, CA-NA-DA.". He was already getting on my nerves, when he asked what train I was going to catch. Suspecting he might be some kind of thief, I told him I was just waiting for a friend. Wrong choice! He just went on with his inquiry, asking who this friend was and blahblahblah. Heavens, he never shut his mouth! Lucky me, I fished out my mobile and pretended to be texted just in time to catch my train. Still, who would have said that Alfred (That's his name) would've taken that same train?

After some random chit-chatting, he eventually blurted out his mobile number and forced me to save it on my phone, along with his name, so I could add him on Facebook. As if I would! Yet, he managed to find me, as I can see now. "Alfred ' Awesome Jones sent you a friend request". His message states "Hi, blondie! It's been a while! Up for some texting?".

Yes, I've just added him and he's currently texting me. Don't be so surprised, he's a jerk, but he knows how to play his cards. When we were on the train, he asked me to call him "Just to verify if I got the right sequence.". Apparently, that's a mischievous trick to get someone's mobile number. Anyway. We were on the lower floor, as it's easier to escape from there than from the stairs. You never know with strangers.

You may not believe it, but I had a great time with him. All my prejudices disapperared after a loooooooooong talk about what we really enjoy the most. I really had a nice time, seriously. Now, I'm about to hear from him again in a couple of minutes. I shall get back to write to you as soon as something interesting happens.

10.00 pm.

He says I've got a nice butt. Well, not the compliment I expected, but I can't say I do not appreciate it. Yet, I told him he's a wanker who should keep his eyes shut before I scratch them out with a rake. I do not want him to get the wrong impression.

11.44pm

"Good night, princess."

Should I feel offended or insulted? I really don't know.  
>Alfred asked me out on Saturday - I accepted. Is it wrong if I'm already choosing what shirt to wear?<br>At any rate, I'll keep you informed.

* * *

><p>And you? Will you keep on spying in Arthur's Diary with me?<p>

Note: The chapters will have a different length depending on Arthur. Just imagine going through the pages of a real diary or chatting with a friend about your life via mail.

All the best,  
>-Z.<p> 


	2. 31st July

31st July 2011

9.00pm

Dear N.,

Yesterday Alfred and I went out on a DATE. Yes - that was a real date, from the first to the last minute.

I actually imagined he was somewhat into me (since he complimented my bottom, I assumed he wasn't 100% straight), but not so much to expect a rose on my seat when he picked me up at 7.00! The surprise almost left me speechless! Almost - As my usual, I had enough spit to growl out some insults. I'm not as cheap as he may think!

He drove us to Subway, where we had some giant sandwiches - so big we weren't able to speak till we stopped munching on them! Then, "To burn down some calories", we headed for the disco. You know the new fancy place down Oak Street, 10 minutes away from Mark's grampa's house? There we went! He offered me some drinks I've never heard of and confessed he'd got to know I wasn't this much into girls from some friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend... of some Mr. Someone. I was startled at first, as having such reputation might cause me some problems in future, but I showed no sign of shock, for I am a great actor! After some light beer he also added some rubbish about me being not only bright but also attractive, but I believe this was a product of the alcohol in his veins, not of the feelings of his heart. We danced in a corner and -surprisingly enough- he did not try to lick my lips just like the last one. Yeah, you remeber the Spaniard? He eventually disappeared in some pub there in Barcelona. I'm almost sure it's better this way.

I warned him about the new laws about drinking when driving. Fortunately, he knew all about them and had nothing more than some lemonade after his beer. I felt quite uneasy, drinking alcohol in front of someone who can't isn't this nice, but he apparently understood it - even though he mistook it for tiredness. So, he drove me home by 00.30, just like daddy wanted.

I haven't told him, but it was one of the best first-dates ever. At least for my standards! And you can be sure of that, since we KISSED! YES! We were there, right in front of my house, sitting in the car, chatting amiably and then we kissed! Oh, that was extraordinary, I tell you! We rested there, mouth-to-mouth, caressing each other's bodies, stealing each other's warmth... Ah, that was so dreamy.

When daddy yelled at me for being late, we dashed out of the car, but kept always close, stepping slowlier and slowlier to the front door. On the closed entrance, we both ignored daddy's swearing from the living room and shared some other spit, just because. I did not want to let him go. He made me feel little but protected. Little, almost small, not because he's very much taller than me, but because he's extremely well-built, whereas me... I'm so bloody scrawny! And protected.. for the same reason. With him by my side, I feel like I could have the world at my feet! But now I lost the thread...

Wobbling in our embrace, we whispered some nonsense in each other's ears - you know, the fake "Thank you for the night.", "I'll text you.", "It's been awe-". No. No _awesome_ on my diary.

Small, tiny, minuscular detail: when he kissed me, my eyes were wide open - and he noticed it, dammit! You know what this means: it's the reaction of when I am afraid something might damage me, but I can't help but doing it. But I like him, damn it!

I do not know what to think... At any rate, I hope the trip to France will help me reason out something. Can you believe Alfred is afraid I might fall for some Frog? Apparently, he thinks "All Franchies are gay in some way!". I just replied "And all Americans are fat in some way.", but he didn't get the joke. Or maybe he did? Anyway, I think the Frogs will be more interested in my sister than me. Alice has become extremely gorgeous - and I shall defend her from any attack! She still believes I'm her loyal knight after all, just like when we were kids. Then, why ruining her dream? I shall be he knight this summer, to-

o. Or just until she finds some ENGLISH-speaking jerk that rapes her senseless, that bitch. Mommy's just got home and you know what? Alice's been boasting all the time! "I got A+ in German", "I'm terribly clever!", "I'll go to Oxford and you won't!" And blahblahblah! Can you believe it? Alright, I still won't let any Frenchie go near her, but just because I do not want any ibbiting nephew messing up with my life. Hell, I'm so nervous I could choke a pigeon! I shall write some more later - now I need to punch a pillow.

* * *

><p>-End Day 2<p> 


	3. 2nd August

2nd August 2011

8.30am

Dear N.,

I'm leaving for Froggyland. Mommy advised to bring only the necessary, since if my luggage is over 20kg, daddy will have to pay extra-money - and "we can't afford extra-expenses right now". She did not want me to bring any book but school notes and I'm afraid she might check my sack before leaving. She has no idea of what _our_ notebook is for and I do not want her to find out, so.. I'm about to hide it in some drawer and stick some post-its and notes to it as soon as I get back. I'll do it. I promise.

About Alice... We have a deal: we'll sneak out almost every night to have fun, but if anything happens, the other was sleeping at home. No matter what, we'll ignore each other till the end. Well, that's only for the night. During the day, she insisted with having me as her personal gorilla - even though her boobies are far more dangerous than my biceps. This is themost important part of the plan: if mommy thinks I'm protecting her, she won't believe we're actually not giving a fuck about each other, but just selecting the right preys.

Did I really say prey? Oh.

About Alfie... We're still keeping in touch -which gladdens me immensely. I'm still quite unsure about our relationship (did it ever become serious!), but I'm keeping all the doubts for me. I believe this is because the sense of weakness he involountarily induces me to feel. But it's not his fault for being that muscular! I do not know, really. I actually doubt we'll ever go further than that kiss - Alfred always sounds so prudish about sex! I know, Grandma says that "Men are not pillows - they're not meant to stay in bed.", still.. It's not like I would do anything to him at the moment, but I would like to speak about it, at least.

Ha, Love. Why are you so motherfuckin' blind?

9.12am

Alice and I exchanged a few words before she disappeared in the kitchen: "I like that new blondie with the strange hairdo. And you seem to like him as well. Is he good in the mouth?"

It enrages me so to know that that monster in pony-tails has a thing for Alfred. Anyway, he's mine - And mine has to be.

9.20am

Alfred is waiting for me! Alfred is waiting for me OUTSIDE THE HOUSE! Oh, I'm so happy he remembered! Forget all about the previous notes, it's him my special teddy!

Now, I really have to go. Daddy's already started the engine and mommy's shouting all the way. I'll be back on the 21st. Don't get infected by some strange bacteria in the meantime. If you pass it onto me, what will I tell my boyfriend? ;D

* * *

><p>-End Day 3<p> 


	4. 17th August

17th August 2011

Dear N.,

I'm currently writing on a napkin I stole from the restaurant mommy dragged us in this evening. I'm sorry for the owner, but I needed to write to you and having left _our_ notebook at home proved to be the worst choice.

On 4th August, Alfred left. He's somewhere in the US right now, visiting the family he left there. I told you he came here only to study, didn't I? Anyway. The night before he left we heard from each other and after some stupid small-talk, he eventually spat out a "I'm missing you.". I got statuary. No word could leave my mouth -he almost believed I dropped the phone, as I just left him hanging while I was savouring those precious words no-one on Earth had ever told me. And so we parted.

I was happy at first, since everything went well between me and Alice and I got used to the idea that Alfie and I couldn't text from each other because of the _incredibly high_ price of messages from here to there. Then, I started growing disappointed, since he could at least send me an email or text me once every 4 days, if he really missed me this much.

I admit it - changing from three-hundred texts a day to none is a punch in the stomach.

The result? Well, since I was not hearing from him, I spent the following two days being hyper-nervous, homesick and incredibly anxious. I could not eat, I stayed up at night, I refused wine and even tea TEA, can you believe it? I even had a quarrel with mommy about the quality of the solar lotion, got angry at Alice for spilling water in my soup before at the restaurant and shouted at daddy for getting stuck in a traffic jam yesterday morning. I was irritable to no end.

I my head, an old video-tape recorder kept playing those wonderful kisses right before my eyes -and it is still doing it! Why doesn't he reply to my texts? Has he found another one? Is this love, this cat scratching the insides of my lungs? And what is this anxiety, what is this inappetite, what is this anger?

I want Alfred. I need him. I even dreamt of him kissing another one! Hell, I hate the fact that in 3 days, the only stupid thing that I've been doing is crying for a man instead of growing some balls and get out of here! Oh, Alice is right. She's terribly right: I should get out of here as soon as possible. I need fresh air, not a plump beating mass of meat. I need music, I need to have fun. I need a party. There will be the 'Summer Party' in 2 days - Alice and I are going. It's not like I really really really wanna go, but Alice would drag me out of bed if I do not.

"Who knows, you might meet someone interesting.."

No, I won't, Alice. Because if someone approached a guy with no terribly fit body, no good shirt to wear at a party and no sign of happiness on his face, but blueish eyeholes under his crimson eyes, skinny legs and growling stomach, I would be scared, not happy. 90% that guy is sick. The one hitting on me, I mean.

Wait, does that mean Alfie is sick?

* * *

><p>-End Day 4<p>

Guys, I'm writing this stuff for fun, just because I thought it was good material for a plot and I need to exercise my English. The fact that it resembles a diary is just because it's a mix of true stories and that this style is the best to convey sincere emotions.

Take care, pipolz!


	5. 20th August

20th August 2011

10.50pm

Dear N.,

yesterday night I went to the so-called "Summer Party", an event the people here have been waiting for since Christmas (and I believe they've already started counting down the days). It's a glorious party thrown at the local springs, which ends with a everyone diving in before getting back home. Yeah, I was forced to splash myself, too. It was great, though, since after all that wine, I was incredibly hot and a bath was actually what I needed. Also the music was amazing! Some guys from the nearby villages were invited to play some rock music - they were fantastic!

So fantastic that when I stepped behind the scenes to congratulate them, they offered me some beer (German, not French. Eww, French beer! The thought hurts my brain!) and after some chit-chat, also handed me one of their guitars to slam. Yeah, I kinda told them I was into punk stuff and _occasionally_ tried picking the strings or reading sheet music.

..Alright, I'm lying. I immediately revealed my one and only adoration for punk-rock bands and begged like there was no tomorrow to pull some strings. It'd been 20 days since I last caressed Eveline! You know I can't survive a month without my guitar! Poor Eveline... All alone in the dark... Once I get home, I'm gonna dance and sing and scream and roll and jump up and down, all around the room, till Daddy comes in and yells at me. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do!

Yet, the part where I actually got a guitar to play is true. A sky-eyed blonde named Francis offered me his own... He even tricked me into stepping on the stage! Just Francis and me in front of the crowd, can you imagine? Fortunately, Alice took some pictures with her mobile, or now I would not believe that really happened. By the way, I'm gonna print them and stick them to the notebook. I would've loved for you to be there, but do not worry! Once you feel better, we'll head to all the parties we find and celebrate together!

Now, I'm sure you've grown suspicious, though. You're right, I'd never tell you someone's name if it was not relevant, so... No, I'm not going to hide it from you any longer. Francis and I kissed. But it was all his fault!

We'd just left the stage and recieved everyone's compliments, when he asked if I was thirsty. Since he was also buying me a drink "as a way to thank me", I believed it would be rude of me to turn down his offer, so I stuck to him for a little while. As all the benches near the stands were occupied and I was starting to feel quite sick, we decided to go and search for a much quieter place just a few steps away from the party itself. Thus sat we under a secular oak.

I admit, I was (and still am) terribly mad at Alfred for not calling me - not even once! -, so I felt quite happy to have another man by my side. At the moment, it seemed like the fairest revenge. I now believe that is why I did not mind Francis' blooming accent at all. After all, it was so kind of him to keep me company and placing his jacket on my shoulders right after I said I was cold just made it better. What, I'd drank before that and so I could not possibly be cold? Well.. Maybe I wasn't cold at all and I just lied to get closer. Oh, alright! Since saying I was freezing my arse off when I was actually nuclear hot throws me on the guilty side of the street, I'm keeping the real fact for me. Better now?

And so we were next to each other, under a tree, in the shadows, till... Till I was in his arms, caressing his back as he worked his magic in my mouth. Do not blame me, it's his fault for offering me a drink! I bet he'd been waiting for that all evening.. Anyway, now we've got a problem. We, because till the problem is solved, I'll be spamming you with my love-sickness!

On the otherside of the riverbend, there's Francis. Francis, as you've seen in the pic, is tall, blonde, trim and got two blue magnets where he should have orbs. If we ignore his outrageous accent, we have a charming, mysterious, strong-willed hard-worker who has a job very similar to my Daddy's - Daddy actually thinks he's brighter than me... Why yes, Francis invited himself over this morning and ended up having dinner with us. I mean, WTF?

Let me explain what happened.. I'd just got out of the bathroom with a terrible headache drumming in my skull, when some idiotic tool knocked at the door. Of course, Daddy swore at the top of his lungs, since no-one expected any filthy jerk at 9.20 am (at least, not after a party lasting till 7 in the morning) and I had to go and get the door before Daddy decided to. He would've kicked that guy to death and we couldn't risk getting a bloody fine.

So, wearing my Scottish-patterned socks and my amazing blue pants with a 9-inch yellow shell on the "front" like a knight armour, I slammed the door open, I roared a "What the hell d'you want?" and guess who was there with a bunch of red roses in his hands?

"Eu... Bonjour, Arthur. Nice pants you have there.."

Me: "What are you-?"

Alice: "Daddy! Daddy! Artie's boyfriend brought him roses!"

It went pretty much like that. Add some grumbling, a squee and some roaring from my parents' bed and you have it. After Alice's declamation, Daddy sprung up like a mice-trap. He had such a face! You remember those sunglasses with exaggerated bouncing daft blue eyes they sold at Tesco? Exactly the same! Thank God (or whatever), Mommy immediately exclaimed "Arthur, put on some clothes and get the fuck out!", which actually saved me from some very hard explaination. Thank you, whoever is in the sky, for having given me such an irritable Mother!

As you can imagine, I was utterly frozen and being ordered something got me to move my arse. Getting back in the room would mean to face Daddy's bewildered rage, bear Alice's smug smirk and wait patiently for Mommy's awakening - which would lead to some really troubled time. Going out with Francis meant being treated for breakfast. Guess what I chose.

Without a word, I turned to reach for the clothes Alice had already selected for me, glared at her wink, ignored Daddy's blink and Francis stare at my butt, dashed outside the room and accepted the roses. The latter was so fucking embarassing, I tell you.

Pretending not to notice the grey sleep printed on my face, Francis dragged me out the hotel to a café in Rue Saint-Quelque-Chose. Do you think I'd taken everything with me? No, absolutely not! No mobile, no wallet, no money in my pockets! I was sleepy, embarassed, broke and away from my family. What if he tried to rape me?

Anyway. It happened that when we were about to sit down, the brunette behind the counter approached us claiming to be Francis' mother - a beautiful mother indeed. She recognised me, since I was "the guy with his son's guitar" and basically offered us breakfast. Yes, I had a tasty croissant and, please don't tell anyone, it was absolutely delicious. A caloric bomb, but delicious nonetheless. It seemed to me that she wished to have some kind of conversation -even if her English was quite poor-, but when she saw the roses, though, she raised her brows at Francis and disappeared in the kitchen. Francis said it was her way to express approval, something which slightly frightened me.

After having gulped down my second teacup, however, I felt no good at all. I needed some sleep, I desperately needed it. A yawn and the slimy bastard asked if I agreed in moving to his flat. Of course I did, I was dead tired! And so we did. We stood up, asked for a vase for the roses, howled a 'Thank you!' and climbed the stairs up to his flat. No need to say that as soon as we'd taked off our shoes, we headed to the bedroom. Alright, he was seriously trying his best to keep my mind occupied, but at a certain moment, I could follow him no longer. It was there when he softly proposed to lay down in his bed.

He lifted the sheets and patted the mattress invitingly, smiling at me with a malicious yet wickedly seducing smirk. I knew something terrible was bound to happen, but the slumber was weighing on my head and a comfortable bed was right there before me... How could I refuse such an invitation? Still completely dressed, I walked up to him and got into his bed. I actually expected him to tuck the blankets for me... Which he did not. Well, partly not. Before that, he glided himself under the sheets, pressing every single fiber of his body against mine. Don't get too excited, we did nothing. And by 'nothing' I mean we just cuddled. Not that I wanted to cuddle! Yet, the only place for my head was right on his chest, and there I placed it. Him... He just wrapped an arm around me and caressed my face, I think. I can't remember whether he said something before I fell asleep... I seriously couldn't grasp a thing, I swear. Yet, I'm glad nothing happened while I was snoring. Yes, I snored. Francis said I did... Just because I wasn't embarassed enough when I woke up.

You're surely dying to know how much awkward I felt right afterwards, don't you? You'll be surprised. When my eyes eventually busted open, Francis was still wriggled around me, with his nose well-dug in my hair. I think he likes my shampoo for some reason... Anyway. I had no idea of how late it was, but I distinctly remember I did not give a fuck about it. It's likely that I questioned myself about the current position of my family, but the perspective of a full-awaken Daddy was not good at all, so I kicked the thought out of my head before it became a worry and concentrated on the guy I was sleeping with. Kill me for the cheesy line, but he did look like an angel. Remember Gabriel, the archangel? The winged guy with blonde wavy hair we saw on the Art History book? The motherfucker than announced the arrival of Jesus? Yes, that bastard. You said it was surely a blonde, because only a blonde could believe the "virgin who has a baby"-thing. Francis was just like him, like an angel hugging me in his sleep.

I don't know how long we stayed like that in the shades, him breathing through against my skin and I stoking his hair, his face, his glistening stub. I really do not know how long I let my eyes dive into the details of his frame, or why I allowed my nose to get used to his scent of roses and mint, or why my teeth went on scratching my lips to keep my mouth in place. And worse of all, I don't care. Maybe it was all a dream... Maybe. Maybe, he was the first waking up - or maybe, he'd never gone to sleep at all and just waited for me to get back to my senses. Or maybe, the fumes that invade my memories are all true.

At some point in time, also his eyes slightly parted. "Hello..", that's what I said. And I was smiling -the softest smile I've ever EVER wore was right there, was only for him. Can you believe it? I stroked his cheek and waited, just freakin' waited for his shiny orbs to get used to the dim light pushing through the window into his eyes. I can't believe that for a moment I was afraid it might scar the blue dashes of his pupils. Blooming like a rose, so grew his tender sweet smile. "Hey..." His arm slightly pushed us closer, when he sighed to get more oxygen in his lungs before half-liddening his eyes lovingly. "There's your scent in my nostrils... I like it."

Now, that was one romantic quote there. And me? I just averted my eyes to avoid meeting his gaze. Is there anyone more stupid than me? Sure not, since with only a light pressure, he got my back to arch and there we were, looking into each other's soul-mirrors again. He was smiling, the bastard, while painting slow circles on my back. He was smiling, like he -like he really liked me.

I hate my heart. Seriously. I hate that bloody fist in the left side of my chest which always pumps faster at the wrong moment. It pumped, jumped, raced, till Francis' lips gently caressed my messy hair, my sweaty forehead, the red bridge of my nose, my scarlett cheek and then, again, my mouth. I swear on my head, I resisted. For only a few seconds, but I resisted. And not because I am that strong-willed, but because I've never wished I'd brushed my teeth so much. I was so afraid my breath was ghastly, that I did not let him slip in till I felt his wet tongue licking my upped lip. And there I fell.

Warmth, warmth was all over me. In my mouth, in my throat, down my spine, the was warmth in and between my legs. And there was lust, pure and ravenous desire. My finger quickly dug in his shirt, that in my mind I hoped would tore apart and expose his skin to my scratches. I wanted to push him into my body through our clothes, I wanted his back to rip under my nails, I wanted his blood to roll down my wrists, I wanted him onto me, into me, all over me.

When his hand slipped down my shirt, I fast opened my legs, I invited him in like a good mistress. I had no shame, no morals, nothing. I just craved for the love he was giving me so freely. He kissed my mouth, my face, my jaw, lavished my neck leaving bloody marks behind and travelled up to suck on my lobes till he heard me moaning. I was ready, I knew it - I was ready for him.

He lifted up my shirt, gliding down to ardently blow on my nipple. I'd already lost control, when his sucks started heating up my body even more - and his hand slided down to my hip. I needed it, I needed all the love, all the pleasure he could give, for being a virgin at 19 turns you into a needy bomb. And so, I spontaneously moved his hand between my tigh -and pressed it against the bulge in my pants.

I thought of Alfred. For real! I thought of him and wondered if I ever let me be touched by that ungrateful jerk. And you know the answer? No. No! I did not want that unexperienced child on me. It would be awkward, that's it. I needed some real action, some hot steam, some throaty moans and also some bleeding cuelty, that's what I needed. That's what Francis gave me.

Francis made me go beyond the innocence of a kiss -and it all seemed so natural, so spontaneous, so adult. He made me feel loved, but not in a childish, familiar way - he made me feel like a man. I shall be honest with you: I do not regret offering him my first orgasm. Not now, at least.

He was a true gentleman, by the way. He whispered some soft nonsense into my ears, reached for some tissues and offered me a couple. He opened a drawer and fished out some underwear to hand me, saying he would lend me some shirt of his. He reassured me about the time and about my family, suggesting I should call them with his phone only when I felt like it. And even though I did not care a damn about that all but the sweet nonsense, he cuddled me tenderly, spreading kisses all over my face.

I almost wished to marry him.

You now can imagine how it went. I eventually got up to take a leak and eventually decided it was time to call The Family. Mommy was fully awake and deep-friend in apprehension, Daddy was still horrified at the discovery that all the doubts he'd had were real, Alice was actually quite annoyed by my persistence on the face of Earth. The usual. Then, right when Mommy was ready to strike her best arrow, Francis grabbed the phone out of my hand and invited them all for dinner. His mother's café kept open till late at night and was actually a good place where to have something to eat. As you can imagine, when Mommy was said there would be 'His Parents' with us, she immediately accepted.

It was a quiet dinner. Ahah, I'm lying! It was surprisingly awkward and awfully fun at the same way. Daddy sat the furthest possible from me, who were the closest possible to Francis, who was right next to Alice. This means: Daddy was in front of me and wherever he looked, there was ME in his visual field. Brilliant, Mr. Kirkland, extraordinary brilliant. He put everything he could past him: wine bottles, glasses, toothpicks,.. At a certain point, I even thought he would blindfold him with the napkin and ask Mommy to feed him. While he was not particularly elegant, Mommy was... to her standards. Francis had to go and close himself in the bathroom for 10 bloody minutes to snicker in peace - not that I did not follow him. "I thought only showgirls owned such clothes!" Mommy was actually wearing a pompous and glittering red dress, something that could only suit Jessica Rabbit. Not that Mommy's not pretty,but... she's 40,damn it! She should wear clothes for people of her age! Yet, it seemed to me she was at ease, so... let's just skip to the part where she noticed Francis' hand on my tigh -and shrieked.

You know when a woman sees a mouse? That was her reaction. But she immediately recovered -for she is The Mommy - and pretended everything was okay, but to her that was actually not. It's not like my parents did not know I walked on the gay side of the street, but since I'd never brought anyone home, they believed I would eventually grow so discouraged, that in the end I would carry a nice girl to the altar -someone that my Mommy could cook with at Christmas and despise all the other days of the year. Francis... He was not in the plan. Fortunately, Alice played fair. She wasted no time in idiocies and spoke her mind then and there. She liked the Frog's charm, she believed he was quite clever, she admitted finding it nice of him to invite them all over to meet his parents, she thought his mother was a great cook and actually wished he could become her in-law, so she would get to come to France with me more often, for the place was way sunnier than England would ever be. Oh, Alice. How blunt can you be?

I think one of Daddy's veins exploded somewhere in his brain when Alice said "Brother-in-law", for he got all crimson red, choke on his white wine and coughed for 5 good minutes before getting back to breathing correctly again. In this all, Francis and I amused ourself greatly. We decided to trick them into believing we were actually in love - partly because we wanted to spice up the evening, partly because we're two fuckin' bastards who enjoy the look of horror on my Daddy's face.

By the way, Francis is a great orator. Despite the accent (I'll never EVER get over it!), he speaks English fluently and with a certain richness of vocabulary. He justified it by adimtting his love for Literature and the need to learn it for work, but I'm not completely convinced. I'll do some research. No, wait. I won't. At any rate, he trapped my parents with his cage of words -something I couldn't have done all alone. I think Daddy actually started liking him. As I told you, he said "Bright guy, that Francis. We should invite him over once at home.". That's an A+ on Daddy's rating scale.

Now, back to my problem. On this one side, there's my Prince Charming, Francis. I'm quite worried, because in a day I burned down the stages, in a day I let him do to me everything I've ever wished to be done - but I've always thought I would be given after 4 months of relationship. Still, he did not forced me down to anything - he just tried. I could've stopped him anytime, but no. No, I did what my heart, what my body wished to do. Before dinner, we had a long, long talk about me. That's right, ME. I explained to him how I felt towards Love, Sex, Life in general. It took me two hours, but he never refused to listen to me. I think I loved him. For those two hours, I loved him.

As I told you, I do not regret a thing. It must be because of that talk - we reasoned about what we had done like two adults, accepted it and decided there was nothing wrong with that. Francis has this incredible power within himself - the power to make me feel like a man whatever we do. Yet, we have a problem. He lives in France, while I'm an Englishman. It's not quite the same. Moreover, he's very different from me. I kinda have the feeling that we would quarrel about every single damn thing, the most banal included. I don't know why. Yet, he's like home to me. A home for my heart.

On the other side, back at home, we have Alfred. If I was a rational being, I would choose him. He lives pretty close to me, he's not the brightest crayon, but he's incredibly well-built, he comes from a good and wealthy family, he's kind-hearted and can get really serious when we're discussing something that he has close to his heart and I dare say that he's also quite reliable. We also share the same principles, which is something extremely significant for me. But if you ask whether I would go beyond the limit with him,... I can't even think about it.

Emotionally, irrationally, impulsively and also with a dash of self-destruction, I would choose Francis. Why? Because he gets me good, because it's a challenge to build a healthy relationship with him, because I like his clear cruelty, his daft bluntness, his simple brightness and I fuckin' adore his fragility. I know, I know too fucking well that someone like him will never ever be able to protect me, that he'll make me suffer to the point of bleeding, that every bloody decision will be a freakin' argument,... but we'll sign a treaty and move on. Alright, he also takes some meds for panic attacks, which actually scares me a bit, but that's not the point.

Still, it's already 1.48 am and I haven't made up my mind yet. Thanks to Mr. Someone in the sky, tomorrow I'll be seeing Francis again. I hope it'll all go well.

* * *

><p>-End Day 5<p> 


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